


Twin Sons and Different Brothers

by Maygra



Category: Highlander: The Series, Lattice, Original Work, Vampire: The Masquerade
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-05-21
Updated: 2010-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maygra/pseuds/Maygra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immortal Nights<br/>Twin Sons & Different Brothers<br/>an ongoing Vampire/Immortal Crossover by<br/>maygra & the wild mole</p><p>Original Characters set in the universes established by Highlander & Vampire: The Masquerade. Additional material from LATTICE: Tales of the MATADA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ~Fear of Falling~

Twin Sons &amp; Different Brothers  
A World of Darkness/Lattice/Highlander Crossover  
© 1998

 

~Chapter One: Fear of Falling~

Max clambered up the ladder, hands slick with sweat, and nearly vaulted up onto the rooftop. A bullet whined over his head and he ducked instinctively, waiting, but nothing else seemed to come after it. Getting to his feet, he ran across one rooftop and jumped over the chasm between buildings to another and another. By the time he felt he'd placed enough distance between himself and the FBI, he was sweating and breathing hard. He bent over, hands on his knees and tried to gulp in some air and think. That good-looking female agent and her broomstick-up-the-ass partner had to want to know more about Vault and that could get messy. True, he'd been a runner but Vault had trusted him to the point of keeping him by his side so that Max had seen a lot of the people that had come and gone as well as a lot more of the business than most runners would ever see.

He needed to keep moving, though. It was dark on the roofs, much darker than down below where the street lamps cast a sickly amber glow on everything. He'd have to try and pick out landmarks from up above and then make his way over to his apartment building and start from there. Ignoring the stitch in his side, he straightened up and tried to get his bearings. As he did, Max heard a small scuffling noise and whipped around in a 360 looking for the source, trying to tell himself that idiot with the gun couldn't be that fast.

He saw nothing but that didn't mean nothing was there. Dragging a ragged breath into his lungs he took off again, seeing the edge of the roof and the one beyond, close enough as he pushed off the edge of the building and was airborne again just as he saw a shadow on the roof beyond. It threw him off his stride and either he was too tired or had misjudged the distance. He knew he wasn't going to make it even as both feet left the roof.

_Fuck!_ He hated falling. Instinctively his hands clutched at anything and he felt his fingers grip the edge of the opposite roof but only barely. Oh, this is going to hurt... his fingers slipped and then he was falling....

Or not. Something clamped around his left wrist like a vise, nearly breaking it but he stopped falling. He hung there for a second, fear and hope warring and then he was moving, upward.

Fast.

He came over the edge and the man who had so ...strongly...caught him, went falling backward as well, ending up on his back with Max laying on top of him, between his spread legs, both of them a little stunned and surprised.

At the moment all Max could think was that he wasn't a blood spot on the pavement --- and he was really grateful for that.

His rescuer moved, getting both arms under himself, propped up on his elbows as he looked at Max, a small grin on his face. "A simple thank you would have done," he said, voice rich and laced through with a soft southern drawl but without a New Orleans accent. He flexed his hips slightly, reminding Max of the rather intimate position they were in. "But I'm not complaining," the man said and smiled, showing white teeth in a pale face, fangs just barely visible.

Max scrambled back. His legs, still trembling from the adrenaline rush of both nearly falling to a rather spectacular landing and his subsequent rescue, refused to work properly and he ended up sitting on his ass facing the stranger, legs splayed out in front of him. "Uh...thanks," he finally said. "It was lookin' like I was gonna wake up in a rehab learning to braid lanyards for fun and income." There was enough light for him to make out the small fangs showing and, for a crazy moment, he thought he was staring at Yvette. "You're...one of them, aren't you?"

The smile faded a bit as the other man nodded, moving to sit up, hooking his arms around his knees. "If by them, you mean vampire. Yeah. Don't worry. Not hunting," he said quickly, dark eyes meeting Max's anxiously.

"No, really, it's...not a big deal," Max protested. "My...uh...girlfriend is one." God. He ran his hands through his hair. Yvette a vampire, the Feds showing up, nearly falling off the roof and now being rescued by a vampire who looked like one of those pictures of Greek statues in his World History books before he'd dropped out of high school. he asked himself. "You hang out on roofs a lot?"

The other man rose to his feet in a swift, graceful movement, seeming to just unfold and rise. After a moment he held out his hand to Max, the anxious look fading a bit. "Yeah, actually...I do...did at home anyway...great place to get away. Not too many visitors." The smile returned a little shyly. "I heard the noise...took a look just in time to see you doing a Batman imitation..."

Despite himself, Max looked back at the ledge he'd nearly fallen from. "Yeah, I usually do a bit better than that." In response to the other man's quizzical look, he tried to explain a bit further, not exactly sure why he was doing so. "I've had...previous experience." Both hands remained firmly on the ground and Max thought the stranger looked a bit amused.

His hand was still out. "I'm not going to bite. Honest. I didn't just haul your ass up here because you looked like an easy meal."

_I certainly hope not,_ Max thought. 24 hours of helping out a nearly hysterical friend who'd come to confess that she was now one of the undead did not qualify him to be an expert on vampires by any means. Still, it would be better not to antagonize the guy. He extended his left hand, keeping his right unseen by long habit. It made the process of assisted standing a bit more difficult since Max had to extend his hand across his body but, eventually, both of them were upright.

"I've seen you before...earlier at the Blue Flamingo.. you were with the girl who looked to be in a world of hurt. Val Everett," he introduced himself, then glanced over Max's shoulder.

"Max Griffin," he responded automatically before following the now introduced Val's gaze. "And I was at the Flamingo earlier but I don't recall seeing you."

"I think we'd just gotten there when you ditched...you looked...occupied with your friend," he murmured. He glanced back at Max, giving him a quick once over before returning his gaze to Max's face. There was no challenge in his gaze, just an odd curiosity.

_Straight as a board. Cute, but straight._ Val thought, though oddly not disappointed. Somebody had to breed the babies and it sure as hell wasn't going to be him...especially not now. He let his eyes scan the rooftop behind Max again, hearing tuned to any further sign of pursuit but sensed nothing. He was intrigued though. He had heard enough gunfire to know that was what had caught his attention just before he saw The Flash here start his run. He let his attention wander back to what Max was saying.

"That was Yvette. She's kinda' new to this gig, apparently, and I was trying to help her out." What that might mean to this Val, Max didn't know. "I don't think I've seen you around the Quarter. You new 'round here?"

"Being a new vampire can be very...rough," Val said softly then seemed to collect some dark thought and toss it away, faint smile returning. "And I am very new to New Orleans."

He looked around. "Well, I probably shouldn't be hanging out up here much longer and you shouldn't either unless you really enjoy talking to the authorities."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Val muttered. "But I doubt the cops here are interested in me."

Max had to grin slightly at the other man's expression. "Didn't think so; therefore, here's a friendly word of warning. If you're hanging out with me, you're bound to get asked a whole lot of questions."

"I already talked to them and didn't know you then..." The grin was back and Val chuckled a little. "Pushy though...and they aren't local. You do know that, right?"

"Fuck, don't I know it," Max said bitterly. "Same damn song, same damn verse. Go after the.." He stopped, wary of saying too much even to someone his instincts told him was on the same side of the law that he was. Instead, he paced a bit and continued to let his breathing work its way back down to normal. His right hand felt like he'd scraped the hell out of it but he didn't want to take it out of his pocket to look; instead, he looked at his left palm and was not surprised to find the skin pink and criss-crossed with brick skid marks and drops of blood. He'd fought hard to stay on that ledge.

"Are you okay? You didn't sprain anything?" Val sounded concerned. "I forget sometimes that ...I'm stronger than I feel..." he finished a little embarrassed. "If you need to rest a bit...go ahead. Anyone heads our way I will either hear or smell or see them before they get too close...and your heart's still racing a little fast..." he added.

"I'm fine - hands are just a little sore," Max offered. The information of a vampire's heightened senses gave him some small bit of comfort that he wouldn't be having to check over his shoulder every ten seconds.

"So what do they want you for -- you don't have to answer."

Max looked at Val for a long moment. Now that they'd stood talking face to face, Max could see Val had the look and the stance of the street hustlers he'd seen in countless towns across the country. Sometimes, they'd come into the carnies area after hours and ply their trade - but with little luck. Carnies were a rabidly heterosexual lot...at least on the outside. Max knew of one or two that had made side arrangements with the hustlers to 'meet them later'. Still, the guy seemed to have an undefinable quality about him. He wasn't sure what it was but there was something about Val that invited talk.

"They say they just want to 'chat', to ask some questions but I've heard that before," Max told him. "I do...some work around town and those guys are always pretty eager to try and get a toehold in and then use the body to climb up the ladder on."

"That's pretty much the story they gave in the bar...but," Val hesitated. He didn't know Max and the man didn't have any reason to trust his instincts at all. "I think they really did want to talk to you...badly. But they seemed pretty concerned about something...scared even. Something odd is going on, no lie." He moved past Max, settling down on the ledge to sit again, long legs spread out as he braced himself on the concrete guard. "But there is talk and then there is talk," he acknowledged.

Max wished his palms would stop stinging. Since the adrenaline had subsided, he was beginning to notice a few aches and pains that hadn't been there when this whole encounter had started. "These two...I don't know about. The guy looks like your standard white knight Fibbie. The woman's...different."

Val laughed, nice sound, deep and truly amused. "Yeah, well, you know what they say about us and them," he said teasingly, dark eyes dancing as he tossed Max's words back at him. "But I don't think she was looking for an easy meal either."

Max sat back down on the roof, leaning against the exhaust vent. "Oh man, she's a vampire?"

Val shrugged. "I am not great at picking out others like me, but yeah. Unless she has the average body temp of a slab of bacon, I would say she is...Kindred." he tripped over the last word as if unused to saying it. "And the word she used in referring to your..." he was guessing but he had a suspicion he was on target. "Former employer...said he was old...which means that however he died caught her off guard...and she's not new to the nightlife, unless I have really lost my ability to size people up."

"Well, you saved me from splatting all over the ground so I think I'll consider your sizing up abilities tops at the moment," Max joked before sighing out a long breath. "Great. Fucking wonderful. Not only is my boss dead...and dead before he was dead...I've got the FBI and vampires wanting to talk to me and I've gotta' convince 'em I don't know shit."

Val churned the pieces over in his mind, not liking the conclusions he drew, but he was operating on minimal information on all fronts. "You know, slipping out of town, probably would be a really good idea," he suggested quietly.

"No can do," Max told him. "Professional and personal reasons. You just don't up and leave without talking to the...bosses. I do that and I'm going to be in big trouble. Besides, I...want to make sure...Yvette is OK and that she gets what she needs." The last sounded as though Max had to drag that admission out of himself. "Looks like I'm gonna be stuck here playing cat and mouse with the FBI. Even more attention I don't need." Max was talking to himself, he felt. Val probably didn't understand what he meant.

Respect for the man sitting in front of him came suddenly. Mother Mary, to have had someone care for him when he had been brought over, then his thoughts choked. Someone had. Someone had cared enough, like Max did for Yvette. Hopefully Yvette would be a little more cautious about her friends. He swallowed, suddenly sick and ashamed and buried that feeling as well -- as he had Marcus. "Keeping a low profile can be tough," Val said, speaking before he screamed, focusing on Max who looked about as well as he felt at the moment - confused and fearful and just plain worn down by life...or death.

"You ever just--" Max stopped his outburst for a moment. Where had that come from? It was like the words were just right there in his head waiting to spill out if he'd let them. "You ever just feel like too many people have holds on you and some of 'em ain't for the right or good reasons?" He exhaled again, feeling weighted down to the rooftop. "Everybody wants somethin'. Everybody takes somethin' whether they know it or not. If it's good, it's OK. If it's not, you can't ever get it back."

"I never did until recently," Val said and slid off the ledge to sit in front of Max, raising his knees and looping his arms around them again. "Or if I did I didn't think about how deep they had those hooks until I had to pull them out so I could let somebody else dig in...But you're right...some things you can't ever get back....and sometimes..." he paused and swallowed again. "Sometimes you find yourself taking without ever meaning to."

Max recoiled from Val's gaze as if stung. Unbidden and unwanted, the memory of the night he'd almost lost his life returned; he could see the dead girl laying on the ground, legs spread apart, surrounded by a ring of carnies trying to decide what to do. His stomach tightened as he remembered the shout of dismay and then the sickening realization he was falling and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He only remembered hitting the first trestle. "And sometimes there's nothin' you can do to make up for what you took," he said to the girl who still visited his dreams sometimes.

"You know the worst thing about being a vampire?" Val said suddenly. "You can't get really, really drunk any more."

"That is something I definitely would miss," was the response. "Especially as I am feeling the need to get really, really drunk right about now."

He hesitated. "Max. You don't know me...you have no reason to trust me...but if you need to get out of town...if you need a place...I have one and folks who will...keep their mouths shut. You could take Yvette. Until you can regroup."

"'preciate the offer, Val, but the less people I involve in this the better. Believe me, you don't want the attention from either side." Max looked out at what they could see of the skyline over the city. "I'm gonna have to play my cards the best I can." He really did appreciate the offer - odd as it seemed to advertise space and security to someone you'd just met. "Although if I ever really get hard up, I'll let you know. I can always juggle to earn my keep."

"Always nice to have something to fall back on," Val said, not pressing. Like the hooker he'd met, you could only offer. You couldn't make things better for people by force.

"In the meantime, I should probably get back to my place and pick up some stuff. Those agents probably have it staked out by now. That fire escape better work." Max looked at Val. "What do you do with your nights?"

Val gave a rough laugh with little humor. "Well, I used to earn my keep...as a hustler,." he said it without embarrassment or regret. "Nice life if you can stand it...or you like it...but...sometimes the payoff is a stone cold bitch." he said bitterly and then visibly shook off the mood, grinning suddenly and charmingly. "You looking to change jobs, Max?" he asked with real amusement. "But if you are wondering what other vampires do with their nights, I couldn't tell you. Haven't met that many. Any particular reason you want to know?" he added, not sure if he had actually answered what Max was asking.

"Nothin'. Just curious. Yvette's my first experience with y'all and I somehow doubt she's...typical." Nope, 'typical' had never described Yvette.

"Typical seems to mean a lot of things...as far as I can tell, no vampire is typical -- just some know more than others. I'd like to meet her, sometime." He put no commitment on the interest, rising again and once more holding out his hand to help Max up. There was less hesitation this time and Val grasped his wrists rather than his hands to pull him to his feet. He glanced over the rooftops. "Your friends seem to have decided to keep their pursuit to the ground. Of course, they probably don't think they can fly..." he said archly, and turned Max's hands over before the man could jerk away, looking at the bloody scrapes. He pulled a clean handkerchief out of his back pocket, pressing it over the worst cut. "I'd keep that on there until the bleeding stops, if I were you...just in case you pass somebody who is hungry," he cautioned with a straight face.

If he noticed the missing digit he said nothing to Max, but moved past him to where a ladder hooked over the side of the building and looked down. "It's clear." He backed down, holding onto the rungs for a moment, studying Max.

"Weird as it sounds, been a pleasure, Max. Maybe I'll see you around," he said with that cocky grin again. He hesitated: Couldn't hurt. "If you decide you need that place to hunker down...Go to Atlanta...Little Five Points...Ask for Andrew McAran. Runs a bookstore there called Lattice. He's a good guy, Max, and while Yvette might surprise him, he won't turn either of you away. See ya'!" he added and slipped out of sight.

By the time Max followed him to the edge and looked down the three story drop, Val was gone.


	2. ~Strangers in the Night~

Val moved, shifting out of the awkward embrace and pulling away. His client was not quite unconscious, but close -- he hated the ones who collapsed on him like that -- and this guy had been flying high even before he came to Val. His pulse was steady enough but Val did no more than assure himself of that before slipping out of the room, calling one of the tenders to see to the man while he grabbed a shower.

He needed one. Or several. Some nights it wasn't so bad and others....He found himself shuddering under the hot water, crouching low for a moment afraid he would be sick.

And Madeleine was so fucking _pleased_ with his performance. Normally, he would go home and find some solace in Tevis' arms, those strong hands and sweet words making him feel like he was worth something.

But Tevis was busy on something for Madeleine. If Val were lucky he'd see his lover before dawn broke.

A knock and he stood up and yelled for the tender to come in.

"Your next..."

"Cancel it," he snapped, stepping out of the shower and ignoring the stare as he dried off. "And the next time Mr. Freeman makes an appointment make sure he hasn't done coke in at least a week," he snarled. The tender looked startled but Val was already riding a raw edge and it showed.

He hated addicts. Drunks he could deal with. The ones who were stoned just made him sleepy, but the serious druggies made him sick and feel dirty because they always wanted more than they paid for and the drugs made it harder to maintain the thin edge of control.

He dressed and left, checking out with only a harsh word. Madeleine would be furious and he did not give a shit.

He needed to walk, to burn off the creepy-crawlies the overlay of narcotics gave him so he didn't call the car, just started walking, hands dug deep into his jeans and for once glad the night was not quite so warm. The air helped clear his head more than anything.

The music and sounds of the Quarter were more familiar now, a droning background, washing out the noise in his head. He was moving fast, not really paying attention.

At first he though he'd hit a wall, and it jarred him but he didn't fall. He was a little more sturdy than that.

But the guy he walked into went down, taking one of his buddies with him. "Sorry," Val muttered, paying attention for the first time...a dozen steps from the Naked Bayou and the guy and his friends, who looked like State College linebackers, were all gathered at the door trying to get a glimpse. Not rowdy, but not exactly a bunch of Mama's boys either.

The guy and his pal got up, their coordination affected by the vast quantities of beer they'd already consumed. Beer, Val knew, acted as a mood enhancer; they'd been in bad moods before and now they were gonna be in worse moods. Wonderful. He couldn't get away from people who needed artificial substances.

"Hey, you little shit," the biggest of them said, "watch where the hell you're going."

"You could do the same," Val answered. "It _is_ a rather large sidewalk." Normally, he just would have been more careful but, being preoccupied with his mood, he'd let his guard down. As he answered, he felt a shove in his back that propelled him forward several steps into the circle the linebackers had created and a few inches closer to the Bayou.

* * *

  
Max had been standing outside the Bayou, hawking as usual, and had seen the football heroes. They'd come up to the steps and had tried to peek around him at first before trying numerous tired dodges to sneak in; at last they'd tried to bribe him. He'd caught Mike the bartender's eye to let him know trouble may be brewing but managed to eject the thicknecks before assistance was necessary. He'd been watching them tromp down the sidewalk, paying little attention to their turning and shouting epithets at him. He'd heard it before. "Mama's boys," he muttered.

He turned away for a second to take the cover charge from a tourist and, when he turned back, saw the college boys had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Curious, he stood on his toes for a moment and tried to see what they were doing. Inside the circle, he saw movement. He looked a moment longer and realized with a start that it was Val, the vampire from the roof.

* * *

There was a time when Val had carried a knife and he felt the loss of it at his lower back rather acutely at the moment. More for flash than for actual intent to harm, but his Wall-headed friend and four of his buddies had stepped to the forefront of their little circle , the three others hanging back, either not as drunk or not as bold -- or possibly not as stupid, but he doubted it.

"No harm, no foul," Val said quietly, keeping his voice low and steady as much for himself as for them. He could smell them, would have sworn to being able to smell their hostility -- something he never understood when the smallest of them outweighed him by 75 pounds easy.

"Not big enough for us and you," Mr. Bricks for Brains snapped. "Maybe you were trying to lift my wallet?" he took a step closer and Val backed up, only he couldn't get very far.

"Oh, tell me you aren't going to make an issue out of tripping? Did I apologize or was I talking to myself?" Val said. It was a mistake...they wanted someone to pound on and he was as good a candidate as anyone.

"Maybe you should apologize again..." the idiot said and his buddies grinned at his cleverness.

_Gorillas in New Orleans, who'd a thunk?_ Val thought and was struck by a different thought, and feeling. He was angry. Angrier than he should have been over something so stupid. _Walk away._

His mouth wasn't paying any attention. "Well, I would but since you didn't understand it the first time, I'd rather not waste my time," he said with a smile and took a step forward.

No small talk after that. Val saw the fist coming and met it -- one handed. Had he been in a frame of mind to notice, he would have seen that Brick-head's buds were blocking the majority of their encounter from the eyes of passersby. But he wasn't in the mood.

Mr. Brick looked surprised when his right cross was stopped - cold. Val had not barely moved anything but his hands. Before he could react, Val kicked out, hooking his booted foot behind the gorilla's knee and he went down - again. Val still holding his fist.

"Geez, sugar. You aren't having a good night, are you?" he drawled. "Sorry you are on your ass again. Will you accept my apology?"

It was the _sugar_ that did it, he was certain. Brick was back up and swinging and Val had him down again in a heartbeat, and this time the bones in his wrist threatened to snap.

It might have ended there, the kid -- and he was a kid -- looked scared because Val had barely moved.

And because the smile Val gave him would have scared the angels.

But his buddies didn't see the smile or their friend's fear. And Val made the supreme mistake of letting his back be exposed. A punch to where his kidneys had once been hurt enough to make him snarl and jerk.

The kid's wrist snapped with an audible break, and the second blow caught Val on the jaw. It rocked him, but didn't down him and suddenly Val was one very pissed off vampire and still high on a cocaine afterburn.

* * *

"Oh great," Max muttered. Just what he needed. Drunk frat boys and a fight. Then again, his last few days had been rather stressful and pounding the shit out of someone might be a good thing. A smirk lit his face briefly. He called over the other bouncer and handed him the flyers. "Here," he said shortly. "I'll be back." The other man shrugged and watched dully as Max quickly made his way down the steps and walked over to the assemblage.

" 'Scuse me, boys, but is there a problem?" he asked, tapping one of them on the shoulder.

"No problem, man," the linebacker told him, slurring only a little bit. "None of your concern at any rate. My bud here just caught himself a pickpocket."

At that bit of news, Max inserted himself a bit farther into the circle. "Those of us that live in the Quarter have a concern with everythin' that goes on." He edged in and confirmed for himself it was Val - the sight of which was not very comforting. Max had seen people high before but Val looked like he was beyond high, his mental state only adding fuel. _Keep it cool, Val!_ he silently begged his acquaintance. _Just keep it dialed down, huh?_ To the jock, he said, "I think you guys are mistaken. You're drunk. Go back to your hotel and cool off."

The aura in the small circle seemed to turn uglier; Max took a quick look around and saw a few onlookers but nothing that particularly worried him...yet. Belligerent drunks fed off the energy of a crowd and, so far, there wasn't one. However, there would be soon if he couldn't get Val out of there.

"You all right?" he tossed over his shoulder to Val while sneaking a look around. He caught the guy with the broken wrist; he was too numb to realize yet what had happened, but once he did... "Relax, Everett," Max tried, hoping Val would get the message. "Not the time or the place." If it came down to a fight, Max would but he also knew the closed in streets of the Quarter and the combined weight of the LSU offense would take away any advantage they might have.

He half-turned to hear Val's answer and didn't see the guy to his left.

Val did and Max had one brief glance of something in Val's face that he hoped wasn't aimed at him before the vampire had whirled in blur of movement both hands blocking the meaty hand reaching for Max. Val pulled and the fratboy came forward like a falling house. Val wasn't the punching kind of fighter. The kid came down between he and Max and it was the combined force of the edge of Val's elbow and then knee to the kid's gut that sent him down.

Before Val could turn the rest decided that taking turns was not going to work...Val staggered under two -- one holding him while the other launched a punch but before Max could intervene there was a hand on his shoulder and a fist headed for his face.

The most he could do was to turn his head and the impact caught him on the side of his face. He felt a burning on his cheekbone and realized the guy must have been wearing some kind of ring. The other goon still had a hand on his shoulder so Max stepped back, pushing his weight into the guy and sending him off-balance enough to feel the hand momentarily loosen. Once it did, he spun around and finished shoving the fratboy out of the circle; it was enough for a brief moment of respite from being teamed up on and he used it to pull one of the others off of Val and land a quick right to his jaw. "Get up, Val," he yelled.

Then he was grabbed again and felt something land with what felt like the force of a 2x4 in his ribs before being spun to the ground and finding someone on top of him. Max had a brief flash of a wish for the wrench he used to use when he'd wade into fights at the carnival before he managed to kick the guy in between the legs, the guy dropping to the ground next to him. Rolling quickly, he staggered upright and managed to kick his opponent full-force in the ribs and then the kidneys before another punch sent him staggering again.

In the meantime, Val had managed to get himself on his feet and moving. Arms grabbed him from behind again and Val shoved back taking he and his attacker backwards and into the side of the building with enough force to dislodge the kid's grip. Another came at him and Val kicked, gaining a height out of those long legs a ballet dancer would envy. The heavy heel of his boot opened the kid's face from chin to nose, blood suddenly all over his front. He staggered back into Max, who grabbed the guy by the shirt and threw him down into the street on his ass while Val turned on the man behind him, hand closing over the thick neck and pushing . The kid grabbed at his wrist but Val didn't let go, pulling him back and slamming him into the building again and again until he went limp, blood on his throat from where Val's nails had scored the skin.

There was blood on Val, and behind him. The other kid covering his face with his hands. Max was still occupied and Val could have cared less. There was a crowd now and the heartbeats around him were pounding, a drum corp in bad synch. He felt the hunger uncoil -- not because it was time to feed but because the food was already laid out, being wasted on the ground. He had blood on his hands and he tasted it.

_Eeny-meeney-miney-moe..._ he looked around at the kid slumped against the wall and the one kneeling in front of him, blood streaming over his hands.

"Well, since you're offering," Val said softly, eyes glittering and his head buzzing like the con tower at the airport. Alleyway, three o'clock. He was curiously detached, and fully aware that feeding in front of this crowd was more of show than he could offer but....He

grabbed the kid's shirt front and pulled him up. "Why don't you and I have a little talk," he said and pulled. The rest of the crowd was still watching the fight and Val just slipped away.

No one was quite sure who was fighting who any longer and with the LSU boys trying to get to their feet or just get away, two more bloodied forms staggering away from the melee and into the shadows seemed ...unimportant.

Max buried his fist in the fratboy's stomach and when he bent over in reflex, grabbed his head and slammed it against the brick wall, taking a brief and fierce satisfaction in watching the idiot crumple to the ground. His face burned and stung, he couldn't see too well out of his left eye, there was blood coming from somewhere and his ribs felt as though they'd been caved in, making it difficult to breathe; but, despite all that, he felt good. They might have landed punches on him but he'd definitely laid a few of theirs out and one guy wouldn't be bothering his girlfriend for quite a while. As he bent over, hand at his side, he heard someone call out that the cops were coming and figured this would be a good time to split. One of the few remaining LSU boys that was still standing grabbed at him half-heartedly before taking off and Max spat into the street. Babes in the woods. Wouldn't want to have to call mommy or daddy from jail.

The brief thought of jail reminded him that he'd better hightail it out as well and back over to the Bayou. Even looking the way he did, Mike and the rest of the crew would swear he'd been there all evening and there was no way the LSU elite was gonna make any kind of report to anyone; they'd go back to the dorms and keggers and brag about how they'd wiped the streets with two of the Quarter's denizens. Whatever.

Max started back but remembered Val. Where had he gone? Val had done him a favor; the least he could do would be to hide him in the back of the Bayou until the cops had made their prefunctory sweep.

The crowd was breaking up some as Max checked. There was a laddie-buck down Max checked out against the building next to the alley but no sign of the vampire.

Max might have gotten angry at Val leaving in the middle for a fight that...well, if he hadn't started it...he sure had contributed to keeping it going, when he heard it.

If it had been louder it would have been a scream. As it was, it sounded like the noise an injured animal made, rising in volume even as the sirens started to sound.

Val had the kid pinned to the side of the building, one muscled thigh pressed between the boy's leg not because Val wanted anything more than the blood overpowering his senses but because a little pressure kept the kid from squirming too much. He did fight which made Val angrier -- cause it hurt. He was fairly sure he had a broken rib or two and something wasn't quite right with his left knee -- all the more reason to feed. He'd heal faster and the pain in his body would be washed away better than a Demerol overdose.

Hunger driven strength kept the kid's arms locked above his head but fear kept him from fighting too much. He had gone white the first time he felt Val's strength and then seen the fangs as Val leaned in to lick the blood from his chin.

"Should watch out for the nights in a strange town," Val hissed, eyes hard and cold. "Pickpockets are the least of your worries. Such a brave boy. Do you beat up only people smaller than yourself or do you like a challenge now and again?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Didn't really want one and this piece of breakfast meat certainly didn't get what people paid good money for. Some part of Val's brain knew he was taking out his earlier anger and disgust on this Neanderthal -- and that part was screaming at him to think about what he was doing. But all Val wanted to acknowledge was the hunger, and the fear radiating off this warm body, his own need, and the violence the fight had brought out.

The kid had started whimpering and then the wail began as Val bent his head. No finesse, no easy, gentle nip this, but hard and fast and deep, hitting the vein immediately and Val almost tore the kid's throat out the rush was so good.

Why did he deny himself this? He had...did ..but at the moment he couldn't think why. He could hear the scream building in choked sobs, every sharp gasp for air the kid made changing the taste, sharpening the sensation -- turning it sweet as the fear rose and Val sucked hard, feeling the kid begin to thrash in terror.

That would stop soon enough -- too soon.

Max had found where Val had dragged the kid and was close enough to see his attack; it nearly made him sick to his stomach. He'd seen the guy Yvette had botched a feed on but it was the absolute keening despair of the kid's wail combined with the rampant, uncaring hunger he could see in Val that made him want to run the opposite direction and forget everything he'd ever seen, heard or learned about vampires in the last 48 hours. But he couldn't do that. The kid may have been a rich, overbearing booze hound but he didn't deserve to go out like this.

He walked closer, forcing each step until he was an arm's length from the young vampire. "Val!" he said sharply. "Let the kid go! Come on!" He took a step back but it was apparent that Val didn't even hear Max; he continued feeding and the other man could see the victim's eyes fluttering shut. Max was in a quandry. He couldn't leave either of them but he had no idea what a truly pissed-off vampire might be capable of. He liked his neck - liked it without holes. "You don't want to do this; the kid's going to be just another hook in you." Absolutely nothing. God hated him. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed Val and pulled. Hard. He needed to get the vampire away from the kid before he killed him. Pulling didn't seem to be working. Steeling himself, he took one hand and placed it under Val's chin. Maybe he could pull Val away from his feeding. The vampire seemed too involved in his feeding to even notice Max. He drew back his other leg to kick him in the shin, hoping the momentary pain would jolt him out of it. Doing it left him not much defense but, to Max, it didn't look like he had any choice.

He pulled and kicked and felt the vampire stumble slightly before he felt himself sail through the air and land hard, sucking in his breath in agony as he fell on his side. Something warm and wet was now soaking into his T-shirt.

The pain exploded through Val's leg and he jerked in response, striking out blindly, releasing his meal before dropping himself. Another jar through his leg ripped a cry out of him and he had to drag in a breath, dropping to his hands.

The pain was far stronger than the hunger and in a brief moment of clarity Val recalled what had happened. He looked to his right and saw the kid, pale, but his heart was still beating strongly. The neck wound was still bleeding though, and his face.

He would bleed to death. No better a death than the one Val had been close to giving him. He almost lost it then. Christ! What had gotten into him? He knew though, the drugs, the disgust, the sheer pointlessness of it all.

He could not get his left leg to work right and he all but crawled to the kid, catching his face in his hands and bent his head, mouth and tongue covering the tear in his throat.

"Don't kill him, Val." At least that's what Max hoped he'd said. His head was pounding too hard for him to really understand.

Val heard a protest behind him and ignored it until the wound closed and then prayed to God the kid was drunk enough to think this had all been a bad dream. Not something Val could count on. He was guaranteed to have nightmares.

He checked the pulse again. A little fast but that happened when you got the shit scared out you. He was coming around...time to clear, if he could walk. He shifted, and managed to get the leg to take some weight, moving carefully to look down at Max.

"You....you fucking idiot," he said, and knelt cautiously. He could smell the blood here as well but the pain, not as sharp now, had cleared his brain a bit. That and something Max had said that was only now registering. "Can you get up?" Max looked to be in a world of hurt and Val added that to the list he was building of things he had to atone for. "Might be best to get up before our friend there wakes up completely."

"I'm fine," Max said, pulling back a bit. Fuck. _Just bluff your way outta this. You've done it before,_ he reminded himself. "No problem at all." Shit. Yvette had been more...pathetic than anything else; this guy was dangerous, for fuck's sake

"I swear I won't hurt you...much," Val said, meeting Max's eyes and not liking the glimmer of fear he saw there. "It's gone...the hunger...not the smartest cure I've ever seen, but effective. Thanks," he added softly.

"No problem," Max managed to get out. If he held his breath and didn't move, he could talk normally. That wasn't going to last long though. All his instincts were telling him he needed to move - and quickly - if only to get away from the cops. He had no choice but to accept Val's help. The little bit of moving he'd done on his own had convinced him of that.

Val moved slowly, very carefully getting a grip around Max's upper chest. He had strength enough to get them both up if his leg didn't give out. It didn't and if Max were surprised that Val was able to lift him as if he were a child, he was in too much pain to say anything. "Where to, Kemosabe?

"Go to…the Bayou," he got out, feeling as though the ribs on his right side were stabbing him in the lungs; the rest of his body was sending out protests of its own as well. "Back door," he cautioned as Val began to slowly limp. "Don't want...the cops to..see us.". His lips quirked. "Don't think they have windowless cells," he said before breathing. That hurt.

The two of them continued down through the side street. Max directed and tried to do most of the walking since Val seemed to be doing his imitation of Festus. Once they got there, he shrugged off Val's assistance. Damned if he was gonna walk back into his own place and not under his own power. Using his left fist, he pounded on the door until Maggie opened it. He offered no explanation - they would have known what had happened. Anything going down in the Quarter was automatic knowledge to its inhabitants. "Tell Mike I'll be out in a couple minutes, Maggie," he directed. "I just need to clean up a bit." Motioning for Val to follow, Max managed to walk nearly normally until they were both in the men's locker room. Once the door was shut, he leaned against it heavily. _Come on, you jerk,_ he reminded himself._ You felt ten times worse when you woke up in the hospital after..._

"Max? You should go to the hospital," Val said. He knew the look, knew the way Max was breathing (not very well) and how he was holding his torso, that he had broken ribs or worse. His own were sore but between the blood and the healing, he didn't notice them much unless he twisted sharply. Same with his leg. He wasn't quite up to running hurdles but other than the dull pain, it was holding him. There was still blood on Max's T-shirt and not from the gash to his face. Max heard him but he wasn't paying attention. He looked around and saw the first aid kit on the wall.

"Huh?" Max said in response to Val's voice. "Fine." Sure. Yeah. Max knew he was going to have a hell of a shiner for a few days but that cut on his cheek had finally stopped stinging at least and, he admitted to himself, it had stopped bleeding. A fact that was making him a bit more comfortable with Val right now. He didn't _think_ Val would hurt him but he really didn't know that much about vampires, either. His chest was killing him.

Val returned with the box, popping the lid and rummaging through the contents. He found bandages, a couple of ace wraps and package of gauze plus a field issue suture kit. Must be some Ex-military type running around. His father kept one of these at home as well.

"Max?" He said it again and this time planted himself in front of the other man, schooling his features into something he hoped would not alarm his companion. "Take your shirt off," he said quietly and Max stared at him.

"Why?" He could feel something was wrong from the slippery texture of the shirt underneath his fingers but there was _no_ way he was going to do what Val had just asked - for a variety of reasons.

"You are bleeding from somewhere. You need to see a doctor." That got him a look he understood and Val sighed. "Then take it off so I can have a look. You just kept me from sucking that kid dry. I would really hate to have you bleed to death in front of me for no fucking reason," he said harshly.

"This is probably just some really feeble attempt on your part to get me in a compromising situation, isn't it?"

Val chuckled. "Nice looking as you are, Max, it really isn't my style to enroll people in my church. I have no designs on your bod - or on your blood supply at the moment," he added more seriously, addressing what he thought was Max's real concern. "Now, are you going to let me help or should I go find someone else?"

"No!" Max responded more sharply than he'd intended. He reminded himself to keep a tight rein. All he needed to do was just stall Val long enough for the guy to go. Then he could check out what was wrong, visit a clinic if he really needed to. He doubted he would, though. He hated doctors. "It's all right. I swear. You helped me out and I helped you out. We're even."

"Appreciative as I am for the assist -- And I am, Max. If not for on the street, then in the alley," He said a little hollowly. He wasn't sure if he would have killed the kid but it had been close and the uncertainty twisted his insides up into tight little knots. He was _not_ going to hurl in front of Max. The least he could do was make it back outside. He took a breath and quelled the reaction. "You probably should have just let them beat the shit out of me. I doubt I could have taken them all and sometimes getting my head cracked against the pavement reminds me that I am just as prone to stupidity as anyone else." Val said, smiling faintly. "Not to mention that a good doses of pain seems to make me think a little clearer from time to time."

"Nah," Max joked, trying not to let Val see how much the effort to speak and breathe normally was hurting him. "You mighta made a mess in front of my club. Makes it harder to get customers in that way." He glanced down at the hand he was holding over his ribs and could see red staining the shirt and his palm. Dammit. Nobody here knew. He'd made sure nobody anywhere ever knew because he'd never told another soul - not lovers, not even the police who'd come to question him about the woman's body that had been dumped at the emergency room along with him. He'd played dumb, told them he couldn't remember anything and, with the injuries he did have, the doctors had corroborated that blocking out the events might not be all that unusual. Still, he could tell that they thought he did know what had happened, could see it in the way they looked at him when they came to change his dressings or bring meds. When he'd finally walked out of that place, two months after his 18th birthday, Max had himself convinced he wasn't worth anything more than the carny trash the cops had said he was.

He pushed past Val and sat down on the old vinyl couch. It didn't rock when he sat which meant somebody must've finally replaced the phone book under the right rear leg. "It'll be OK. I'm sure it's just a scratch." Then he realized he was leaving blood where he'd been.

Val stared at the blood smeared on the door and then back at Max. "Uh huh. Well, I could just wait for you to pass out on me…which should be in about five minutes if I am any judge - and I am," he reminded the other man. Max already looked pale, as much from pain as anything. He must've had the same macho bullshit instruction about men and pain as Val had gotten from his father. Other than the tense position of his body and the strain in his face, Max had barely said anything.

"You always such a tough guy?" Max asked. His concentration was on breathing as shallowly as possible so as not to aggravate anything.

"Given what I am, I'm not likely to pass out at the sight of a cut or bruise." Val said, coming close to crouch in front of Max. Much less threatening position. He pushed his hair back off his face. "It won't be the first time I've patched somebody up...hooking isn't the safest profession in the world, ya' know. Anything shy of an artery I can probably take care of - and if it were that we'd probably have ended this conversation awhile back - permanently."

"That's comforting - although I'd like to think I'm smart enough to know if I'm dead or not. Alright." He was starting to feel worse if that was possible which is probably why he agreed. Small shivers were running through his frame and he could see the emergency room in his mind's eye again.

"Don't count on it," Val said flatly. "I didn't." The tone was just hollow enough not to come out angry but Max didn't want to think too hard about whatever emotion did go with the comment.

"I'll keep it in mind," he said absently.

Rising, Val helped him pull the bloody shirt over his head, then crouched again to use the shirt to wipe at the worst of the blood staining Max's side. The scar startled him. It was massive - a wonder Max had even survived whatever had caused it. Something had opened Max up good. He shifted his gaze, searching for the cut that was making all the mess. "You got stuck," he commented looking at the cut...right into the fleshy tissue below Max's ribs and across his back in a shallowing gash. Nasty, painful, but not too deep, just scoring the fatty tissue under the skin. Not that there was a lot of extra flesh. He pressed the shirt against the wound, causing Max to hiss, but he needed the bleeding to slow a bit. The scent of it was a little distracting but he wasn't hungry and given his last reaction, he was about as vicious at quelling his own instincts as he could be.

"Sit back," he said wadding the shirt up and pressing it against the skin again, letting Max's own body weight hold it in place as he rummaged in the first aid kit, pulling out antiseptic and gauze and the suture kit. "I can bandage it or suture it. Your choice. Course it won't be as good as a pro-job, but I am cheaper."

"Well, hey, we've gone this far, we may as well go all the way." God, his sense of humor was getting worse. "Sorry," he muttered. "Didn't mean nothin'."

A smile eased Val's features, eyes sparking with humor. "Not to worry, sugar. I am taken," he said with a chuckle.

Val almost offered a little extra as he set the threading, but he doubted Max would agree. A little saliva and not only would the wound stop hurting but it would probably slow the bleeding as well - he just didn't quite see Max agreeing to having a vampire's mouth that close to anything on his body that might bleed. "Lay down, on your stomach," Val directed, already swabbing at the bloodied skin. He'd get this then use the ace to wrap those ribs - they were already starting to bruise. Val bit his lip to keep from swearing as the rest of the scar was revealed. "You, my friend, must be part cat to have survived that," he said softly and eased his touch a bit to become gentler rather than efficient.

"Just too damn stupid to die when I should have," Max mumbled into the couch, his forehead resting on his left forearm. It hurt like hell but "frontier medicine" beat doctors and hospitals...and questions. His right arm dangled against the couch as he did his best to try not to flinch anytime Val came near the scar. Shutting his eyes, he tried to ignore both the pain and Val. The first was easier than the second.

Flooding the top of the first aid kit with a pool of alcohol, Val dropped the suture and thread in while he cleaned out the cut. It was fairly clean – no jagged edges. Max tensed up and ducked his head when Val wiped at it with peroxide. Watching him, Val made a decision and shifted, setting his back to Max to block the other man's view as he picked up the suture. "Take as deep a breath as you can," Val said and waited as he did so, Val biting into his own hand. It was gross if he thought about it but his saliva was the closest thing to Novacaine he had. Enough on his hand and he brushed it across the wound, following with the first quick stitch. Max didn't even flinch. "Let it out," he said and watched as Max's sides relaxed. He was still stitching carefully – not as good as a doctor but it brought the open ends together. "So what happened…tell me is not an old football injury." Val said and found himself rubbing the tense muscles of Max's lower back. Two more stitches and he was done – ten in all. His mother would be proud – there were neat and even. He reached for the gauze.

"It was an accident," Max said after a pause. The lie was obvious.

"With what? A loan shark?" Val asked, spreading the gauze and taping it in place. "Max, there's only two kinds of scars in the world. The ones we talk about like trophies and the ones we hide like looney relatives. Sit up," he directed and Max looked startled that he was done.

Max watched as Val dropped the ends of the suture and the needle in the lid and then picked up the bandage. Belatedly, he realized Val had asked him to move to the end of the cushion he was on and he obliged.

The Ace wrap was in his hands and with Max sitting Val was able to get around his mid-chest, but he couldn't help but touch the scar and noticed Max's reaction - he jumped so, Val almost fell over. "Christ! I am not trying to cop a feel here!" Val snapped. "Who did this?" he asked, gentler....he gaze fixed on Max's face showing nothing but concern as he finished the bandage and tucked the ends into the elastic. "Tell me it's not the same guys you work for - you are not that stupid. Of course, I could be wrong. You did try to jump between a vampire and his lunch," he said raising an eyebrow. "If this was some kind of lesson, I'd say you need to change schools."

"No, it's not," Max agreed. He leaned back slowly against the couch, bracing himself. Everything still hurt but not as much. "Thanks. You're pretty good with this stuff. Beats Jimmy in the back of an RV pourin' vodka over your leg after you had the Tilt-a-Whirl start up without notice."

"John Wayne school of medicine," Val commented, putting the supplies back into the case and wiping up the excess alcohol and bits and spots of blood. "Tilt-A- Whirls," he said wiping his hands. Val sat down on the floor, stretching his legs out and noticing the rip in the left knee of his jeans for the first time. He didn't need to look to know the flesh beneath was torn as well. Little blood stained the dark denim and he had a real aversion to looking at his own near-bloodless wounds. He didn't need to be reminded that under the external normalcy of his appearance there really was mostly what seemed to be a well-preserved corpse. "Now there's a pleasure from days gone by. How'd that happen.?"

"Carnivals. Used to work 'em..." His voice trailed off and Val could almost see him physically attempt to shake off the memory that was rising to the surface. Max could have sworn that if he'd closed his eyes and then opened them again, he would have been back at that night with loud music playing, pot smoke hanging heavy in the air, mixing with the smell of cigarette ash and evidence of prodigous alcohol consumption along with harder drugs.

"Yo, Max," Val said close by. He pulled off his jacket and put it over Max's shoulders. "Don't go into shock on me, man," his voice was insistent. He dug into his pocket and pulled out some change, dropping quarters in the drink machine and returned with juice, crouching down again to put the can in Max's hands. "Here. Drink this...drink it. Didn't you ever give blood at the Red Cross? You get cookies." His gaze dropped to Max's chest again. "That's an old scar. How old were you?"

"Seventeen," he answered, eyes still fixed on the wall. "So stupid. Used to work and then go get totally smashed. Get high. Used to do the hard stuff - even through bad trips."

"It puts a definite kink in your sense of reality," Val agreed. Keep him talking. He didn't like Max's color but he wasn't entirely sure it was all from his current injuries. What was that thing they talked about on TV all the time...? The Vets got it...post traumatic shit. "Being frigged out of your mind can definitely put you in places you don't want to be doing things you don't want to be doing," he said softly, dropping his gaze to his hands and rubbing his wrists. "Like tonight...and I wasn't the one doing the drugs...exactly," he said. "God knows I've seen enough prostitutes come out of a bad encounter with someone too freaked to know what he was doing...nicest guys in the world until they are hyped. You were lucky to live through it. A lot of people don't," he said. "I'm sorry," he murmured and his voice broke. "Shit." He put his hands to his face. He would have killed that kid save for Max. "I could have killed you and never noticed until it was too late," he said lifting his gaze to Max's again.

"Might not have been a bad idea if you had," Max answered, looking down in surprise at the can in his hand. After a moment, he took a drink, his swallowing the only sound in the room. Lowering the can, he held it with his right, using the motion to hide his hand while his left played with the can tab. He bent it back and forth until it snapped off. The motion seemed to startle him, as if he suddenly realized he was in a locker room in New Orleans instead of wherever his memory was unwillingly taking him.

"We all used to do it...especially on nights when we were pulling out of town. You know, throw a party and one of the guys would usually find some girls that had been hanging around all week." Max lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "They didn't seem to mind."

"It's a buzz," Val said quietly, sitting close and listening. "Being the center of attention... some people need that." He watched Max carefully, anxiously, but let him talk.

"One night..." He coughed. "One night we were sittin' around. We were the last group to leave and were supposed to drive the equipment over the state line and into the next town early the next morning. We were partying and, suddenly, there's this girl there. I'd seen her. She'd been following some of the guys around all week. She wasn't flying when she got there but it didn't take her long. Right about then was when a couple of the guys decided to take her up on what she was offering."

"Did you?" Val asked with no accusation.

"No!" he exclaimed, sitting up before his body reminded him of the abuse it had taken and he sank back into the couch, grimacing and catching his breath. "Too damn high," he muttered. "I'd done a couple lines and was just layin' back smoking a joint that had some dust in it."

"And it got rough," Val observed. He thought he knew where this was going -- been there...both sides. It could haunt you...it could break you. He didn't want to watch Max break but he stayed, watching the man sweat, alert to the tremors starting that had nothing to do with his injuries and everything to do with pain.

Max felt like he was starting to shake; his hands were sweaty. The can slipped out of his fingers and dropped to the floor. "I don't know when. There was some...screaming."

There was little Val could say although he wanted to reach out and touch Max, ground him somehow. The other man wouldn't look at him -- Val wasn't even sure Max remembered he was there. You had to work through nightmares...or get caught up in them. "So you went to see..." Deep voice was calm and even, the voice he'd used on how many strung out friends who couldn't move for fear of the snakes or fires or bodies only they could see. "You heard the screaming..."

"I heard it. Shit!" he cursed, squeezing his eyes shut. "I _still_ hear it." He wiped his hand over his face, tilting his head back.

Val did move then, coming up to his knees, almost afraid Max would pass out on him from either blood loss or stress, ready to catch him if he did.

"I went to see..." he continued, parroting Val's words. "It was...a gang bang and...I don't know how...but she was dead. Just laying there like a...like a Raggedy Ann doll I saw once. One of my foster sisters had it and when she threw it down on the ground, it'd look just like she did." He could feel the terror and the bile rising in his throat. Eight years and it was just like yesterday - the realization that this girl was dead.

Saying the words hurt. It felt as though something was being ripped from him, that he was weakening somehow. "I...guess I freaked. Started yelling that she was dead and we were gonna get put in jail for killing her. Fuck!" The vehemence of the curse surprised Val; until now, Max had been relating the story in a calm, almost matter-of-fact manner. Possibly too matter-of-fact. Maybe the emotion was a good sign. "I just shoulda kept my damn mouth shut."

"They were...tryin' to decide what to do with her and then one of 'em asked what they were going to do about me. How were they gonna keep me from talking?"

The words were spilling out of Max so fast and hard, Val could feel the fear, smell it and Max's heart had sped up again.

"They thought throwin' a scare into me would make me shut up. I was so high it was hard to fight back. We...hadn't taken down the rollercoaster track yet so they...hauled me up there and held me over the side, tellin' me they'd drop me if I didn't shut up. Nobody had to know. Nobody...had to know."

Val understood now the reaction he'd seen on the roof. He'd chalked it up to Max's near fall then but this was older...his comment about "previous experience" making sense now as it hadn't before. Too bad someone hadn't been there when he was seventeen. "But you were scared...and you were strung out." Val said, coaxing him to finish it...to let him get it out. "And you felt guilty," The last he understood better than Max could ever know.

"Like I said..." Max shrugged again, trying to draw the last eight years of protective armor around himself again. "We were high. I struggled...somebody lost their grip and...I fell."

Max was shaking so hard Val reacted instinctively, reaching out without worrying about what the other man would think and gripping his upper arms. "Max. She was dead -- there wasn't anything you could have done. You aren't falling now. You lived through it. What happened?"

"I...don't remember," Max said, looking away again. "I hit the first trestle and fuckin' _felt_ my finger come off, then I hit the edge of a metal bar we'd jimmied onto there to support part of the structure. Felt like it went through me. The next thing I remember was someone yelling at me to tell them my name. Did I know where I was? They'd taken and dumped me at an emergency room. Me and...the body." He couldn't stop the words if he'd tried; Max went on to try and explain floating in and out of consciousness, people asking questions he couldn't understand or answer, then finally slipping into blackness only to wake up to a body that had been forever changed and more questions.

"The cops wouldn't stop asking me questions. I told 'em over and over how I didn't know anything. Either they finally believed me or just got tired of me. The doctors and nurses knew, though. I could tell. You know what the worst was?" he asked Val rheotorically. "Her _mother_ got in my room and started yelling at me. She was crying. Wanted me to tell her what had happened to her daughter. I couldn't tell her anything, either." A mirthless smile twisted his lips. "Turned 18 while I was in there. Know how I celebrated? Signed myself out against medical advice and got the hell out."

Val understood the terror. The triggering memories. "You didn't kill her. They did. And they tried to kill you...accident my ass," he spoke sharply, giving the man a little shake, forcing Max to meet his eyes. "Nothing you did or didn't do made you deserving of that," he said touching the scar lightly, right at the sternum. He didn't let the touch linger. He needed Max's attention on him right now. "Not then, not now," he said, absolutely.

"Hell, I didn't," Max said. "I was there. I heard her." He shook his head. "I can still see her...before, y'know? I used to see her a lot. For a long time, I was afraid to go to sleep; she'd be there as soon as I closed my eyes, asking me for help. It was almost enough to make me get back on the stuff."

If Val could have looked away he would have. How close this was cutting to his own fears...his own nightmares._ Oh, Max, man....she won't let you go 'till you cut her loose._ Maybe not even then... Marcus hadn't ...and Val didn't have any tips on how to make it happen. "What'd you do?" He asked, sitting back and dropping his hands to his thighs.__

"Traveled around. Found another carnival and signed on. Kept myself out of sight." Of his own volition now, Max looked long and hard at Val. "What's your stake? Why do you care how I feel about this? I'm just a fuckin' accomplice to a murder. Carny trash."

Max's self-loathing hit Val like a glimpse in a hated mirror. And it hit hard...and it hurt... and for a long moment Val couldn't speak. He saw Max start to draw back, withdraw and he reached out like lightning to grip the other man's wrist -- holding up the hand with the missing finger. "Because you saved my....you kept me from killing that kid. You said we're even. We're not. Not even close. Carny trash is just what people who don't understand that life call you. You aren't any better or worse than anyone else. Maybe you could have helped her, or maybe if you had tried, your "friends" would have been so high and so scared that scaring you would not have been their first choice. And you'd be dead and no help to anyone. Maybe she could have survived...some do. Some don't want to. And you've paid for her death, for your...indecision...not cowardice, Max. Indecision," he said holding the hand up. "More than the guys who killed her did. You helped out Yvette... that's one life...the kid in the alley, that's two. There's probably more, aren't there? I'd say you're paying the debt." he let him go suddenly. "And being accomplice to a murder isn't the same as...being a murderer," he said roughly and got to his feet stiffly, staring at Max as he tried to draw breaths his lungs didn't really need but his emotions did.

Max stared. He'd heard the words but the ideas contained in them had become so foreign to him that he was almost afraid to even believe that Val had meant them in earnest. "I just helped out Yvette because she needed it. She was in bad shape and didn't know what to do." He shrugged very slightly, self-deprecatingly, seemingly trying to avoid what the actions he'd performed said about him; the belief that he was nothing was something that had been easily cultivated. "You looked like you could use a hand tonight."

"You got lucky tonight. I could just have as easily broken your neck and killed that kid anyway, then turned on you for desert. The only thing that kept you both from ending up dead was that I was angry, not hungry. It was stupid and suicidal." His voice was hard and flat. "I am really glad you did it, but don't do it again, please. I don't have that many... friends that I can afford to bury them. And what little is left of my soul won't survive many more...deaths besides my own. Stitches should come out in a week," he added and headed for the door. He couldn't take Max's undeserved guilt on top of his own which was just as unintentional but just as sharp.

"Hey, wait a second." Cursing and trying to hold his breath at the same time, Max pulled himself up from the couch and caught up with Val just as he started to open the door. Without thinking, he put out his arm to hold it shut. "Fuck!" he cursed again. "Some medic. Gonna make me pull out my stitches."

It was a gesture and had Max stopped to think about it he would have realized that holding the door shut against a vampire was a pointless waste of energy. But he wasn't thinking of Val as a vampire at the moment. The fear -- the fear of Val was gone, had been erased in those long moments and words of an older, more potent fear. "Then sit down and don't strain," Val said evenly. "Better yet, go home and sleep," he said. "For a week, if you can manage it."

"Look, you can't just do this and leave. If..." How did he say this? And how come people seemed to be coming out of the woodwork these days and building some type of connection with him? And why didn't he mind? He'd been alone a long time; he liked it. No, Max told himself. He was _used_ to it. There was a difference. "If we're not even, then explain to me what's goin' on. How do you know so much about how I feel? And why do I get the idea you've been through it, too?"

"Max..." Val was not up to this...he hadn't been able to turn away before...not watching Max rip himself apart over something he'd had no control over. What Max had done or not done for that dead girl was so far removed from what Val had done...more than once, but once that cut as deeply into his soul as that trestle had cut into Max's body. "What's going on is what I am..." he said, settling for a half-truth and praying it would be enough. "I _feed_ off other people. People like you," he said with a bitter, dry chuckle. "It's how I survive. I understand how you feel because like carny trash, I know what it's like to be thought of as less than ...acceptable because of what I did for a living. It didn't matter that I literally worked my ass off. I was still a whore and if I got beat up or roughed up or not paid then I deserved it. Until I believed it. Like you believed it. Like you still believe it. It was a lie then and it is now. For both of us."

Max listened. There was a subtle difference to the words now. The force -- the meaning --Val had put into them when he was saying them to Max was gone. It seemed he was mouthing them by rote now. "If neither of us deserve to be thought of as trash, why is it you seem to change your mind when you're talking about yourself?" He didn't think Val was just blowing smoke. He'd meant it, dammit. "And committing murder?"

He wasn't going to let go of it. "Because I meant it when I said being an accomplice to murder isn't the same as being one. I've been both," he knew his voice was harsh and flat. "And not because of indecision or by accident..." His throat closed up and he shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It can't be undone. You can only go on. That scar...you can hide it or not -- your choice. Mostly I don't have a choice about hiding what I am. My only choice is to control it or not. If I don't, people die. People I _care_ about die. That simple."

"At least you've had people care about you." Max took a shallow breath. Although the pain was duller, he still hurt. This was important, though if you asked him, Max probably wouldn't have been able to say why. There was a...need to get this figured out, for the echoes in his head to stop. "I don't recall anybody that I can really talk about with the same emotion you just did."

"Lucky...Yeah, I guess I guess I am...." Val said softly. "Did and do have people I care about...but I am a vampire, Max. Do you get this at all? I don't think of myself as trash anymore...or cheap. Or worthless. But I need blood to survive. Constantly. I step out in the daylight and sunburn takes on a whole new meaning. And I am going on the only way I know how...the only way I can."

"What you did can't be undone - the same way I can't go back and--" He swallowed. "--and change anything that I did...or didn't do. Whether or not I can hide the scar is immaterial. I coulda come out of the damn thing scot-free but I'm always gonna carry scars that nobody will ever see. All of us do. Me, Yvette, you."

Val studied the floor for a long moment. Max was right -- about himself -- and he nodded. "You see the scar, Max. It reminds you...has reminded you over all this time that doing nothing can cost. Does cost. You could have done nothing to help Yvette. You could have done nothing on the street out there or in the alley. You don't have to

talk about people to care about them," he said and lifted his eyes again. "You just have to care, and you do. Despite your best intentions," his mouth quirked up in a small smile. "I am glad I hauled your ass up on the roof. Leveled a little bit of my own debt I hope."

"Saving my ass from falling to the pavement below goes quite a long way. I've already learned I don't bounce well." For a moment the two of them stared at each other before a half-laugh and a grin appeared on Max's face. Val just shook his head, amused. Bad joke. Very bad.

"What happened?"

It was said so quietly, Val almost thought he didn't hear it. Fine. So maybe if Max knew there was a huge difference between inaction and willful harm, he'd ease off. Val was surprising himself. He had told no one...in the four years since he'd been brought over -- not even in confession.

"There's a church in Atlanta, All Saints. Has one of those big old cemeteries with the family mausoleums. Stone crypts," he could hear himself talking but it was just words. It had to be just words. If he let loose the feeling behind them he might as well take that little stroll into the sunlight._ Go on. It's past. Max has his scars...you have yours._ "Inside one of those tombs is an extra body. His name is...was...Marcus. He was..." Shit. He was...had been everything and Val hadn't known it until it was too late. "He was my lover for nearly four years, best friend, teacher. He's dead. I...when I ...was brought over...embraced...whatever the hell they call it...I didn't know…I had no idea...didn't even know it had happened...what had happened. I thought it was just a bad trick that got worse. But I thought I lived through it. I was really, really wrong. Dead wrong." he couldn't even laugh at the joke. "I was scared. I was hurt and confused. I was barely twenty years old and I went to Marcus for help. Went to Marcus because he was there...like he always was there. And then the hunger ...hit me. Hard."

"So....you were like Yvette? Changed but you didn't know what was going on?" Being so new to the truth of vampires existing, Yvette was Max's main link, what he had to measure other vampires by to try and understand what they were telling him. He saw Val nod but then the other man opened his mouth and continued before Max could ask anything else.

"He was dead before I even knew what hit me...he tried to help me and I killed him...drained him dry and didn't know I had done it. All I knew was that I had to feed. And when it was all over and I realized what I had done. I took his body and I stuffed it into that tomb...and spent the next couple of months telling everyone...our friends...his friends that he had just up and disappeared. It happens sometimes. Hustlers just leave or disappear and no one really notices or cares. And I knew it. Used it." His voice sounded hollow even to himself. "You've got scars on your soul, Max. This is what having no soul looks like." His gaze held Max's for a long moment. "Be scared of it. I am."

Max held the stare, willing himself not to back down now. "You didn't know what you were doing and you tried to make amends the same way I guess I've been trying. We've apologized to that girl and Marcus a thousand times - probably more - but they're always still there, huh?" As he said the word 'there', Max tapped his chest where the scar started. "You didn't know what you were doing; the asshole that made you did it for sport and left you to figure it out the same way Yvette was made."

"I should have known...if I'd been paying attention--" Val started only to have Max cut him off.

"How could you know?" Max asked harshly. "All you had was instinct before and...after." Val realized Max was talking about Marcus. "You did what you could do for him and if I've gotta believe that I'm actually a better person than I think I am, you've gotta believe that somehow he knows how you feel and that you're sorry and you'd do anything to change it." He wasn't sure who he was talking to - Val or himself.

"I knew because I had killed a guy...a bum...in an alley not an hour before." Val said sharply. Willing Max to understand. "Max, I'm not talking about whether I what I do is good or bad. It is what it is... I tried to feed off the bum and ...mangled it...he died before I could finish...heart attack, probably. And I still went to Marcus. I didn't even think about the police. And god knows I am sorry...I would undo it...Shit! Look, this isn't a game of one upmanship...your mistake versus my mistakes...willful intent...I have done that as well...nobody will miss two pimps and a crack dealer but I made those choices. I know what murder is...what killing is...and what dying is...I do it every fucking morning...And every night I get back up and start over again." He stopped, regrouped a bit "Max, I know what you are saying...and I appreciate it...I honest to God do," he said quietly. "Coming to New Orleans has been a real mix of bad and good. In Atlanta, as far as I know, there are no other vampires. Down here, you trip over them if you aren't careful. But don't think of us as human -- cause we're not. Not anymore...not when we are hungry. Believe me, when that hits...you know you have no soul, no matter how much you fake it or try to compensate for it the rest of the time."

"You got a soul, Everett. Ain't no way you can tell me that you hauled me up to the roof just 'cause you decided it'd be something for an evening's entertainment. Hell, you got more soul in you than some of these people walkin' around here still breathin'."

Val smiled a little tiredly. He was tired...and not hungry which was a fairly unusual sensation. The thought of sleep, real sleep was very appealing. The whole idea of anyone knowing what he was, accepting what he was, was new and a little heady and a lot terrifying. It made him think, hope, however briefly, that he might could tell his family someday...somehow. That they might accept -- he choked the thought back. _Don't go there. Don't even think about going there. This is why you stayed...why you moved. Why you are trying to start over._ Max was still watching him. "Thanks for that..." he said. " I hear what you are saying and I want to believe it more than you know..." He did take a deep breath then. "I'll tell you what...you believe...try to believe that that girl's death had some meaning...for you...that it changed your -- for the better and I'll keep trying to believe that I can keep from becoming worse than I am."

"The difference between us is, my friend, that when you care about people -- even a little -- they get something out of it...sometimes a little, sometimes a lot -- like their lives. Like Yvette and the college boy...me...You were right about the hooks...." he said, finally recalling what Max had said to him in the alley. "I have enough hooks in me that I put there...my family, Tev--" He stopped again. "We are a lot alike, Max. Scary isn't it? But my caring...it gets people hurt...sometimes killed because I go to them...I need them to keep me sane. But I will turn on them -- maybe not all of them....just some...sometime. And they will die. Willful intent, Max. If I could cut them off...If I could not care...it wouldn't hurt so much. But not caring really doesn't make it not hurt...doesn't make it not scar. You have to tell yourself, remind yourself you won't kill. Haven't. So you can go on. I have to remind myself that I _will_ kill...that I have--so _I_ can go on...because if I forget...If I don't remind myself, tell myself that every night -- it will happen again. It almost happened tonight because I forgot. " He paused, seeing the protest on Max's lips and smiled. "It's okay. I don't hate myself...not most times. Most days--nights. I try...I try not to hurt...not to kill. But, I think, not caring would be worse. I'll work on it. Maybe I do have a soul but I don't keep it. Other people have to...My family, my lover...now you. Maybe it's the same for you." He smiled again, soft and warm and tired. He liked Max and now he owed him more. Not for stopping the killing exactly but for rescuing that little bit of Val's soul.

Max wasn't sure he wanted to be the guardian of anyone's soul when he had a difficult enough time wrestling with his own. "I don't claim to know anything about y'all," he said to Val. "Until a few nights ago, I didn't even know vampires really existed. Know how I found out? I dared Yvette to show me her fangs." He started to chuckle but it hurt and he stopped. Val couldn't resist a small smile that briefly tugged at his lips; it did sound a bit absurd. "To be perfectly honest, it scares the hell out of me. I know you - or Yvette if she had a mind to - could kill me without a second thought." _Brings a whole new side to 'fatal attraction',_ he thought wryly. "But...I don't know what I'm trying to say." Max shoved his hair out of his eyes. "I don't think...relationships...or friendships are built on the base of what one person can do or has done for another. It's not a...checks and balances kind of thing...or it shouldn't be but, then, it ain't exactly a perfect world. I helped 'cause I wanted to." That realization/admission set him back on his heels a bit.

Val saw the faint look of surprise cross Max's face, easing the lines there. He knew the feeling. He felt himself lose a little bit of the fear every time he looked at Tevis...seeing the acceptance, the love there. Not so much for or with Max, but it was a strength Val needed...a gift he found himself unwilling to refuse.

"Make you a deal," Max said. "I'll hold onto your soul and you hold onto mine. Maybe we'll decide to believe what the hell the other person is saying."

Val nodded, holding out his right hand, deliberately forcing Max to use the one with missing finger. He gripped Max' hand firmly, curling his fingers around the tanned palm, wrists slightly twisted. Homeboy grip."Deal," he said. There wasn't anything else to be said. "Before this gets awkward.." he said, grin turning up the corners of his mouth. " Try to stay out of trouble -- yours or anyone else's – at least until your ribs heal. I gotta go...got somebody waiting for me," he said and pulled open the door, the gratitude on his face exposing far more than his passionate words had, making him look the twenty he'd been when his life ended and his death started.

"Hang on a second." Max walked slowly over to his locker and pulled out a black T-shirt. It took a minor miracle but he managed to get it over his head and on, carefully tucking it into the black pants he was wearing. "My job's waiting," he explained. "Gotta pay the rent, gotta eat." He drew a careful breath and sent up a silent prayer that there'd be no drunk Japanese businessmen tonight. "Besides," he finished, "club policy. Guests... and friends gotta leave by the front door."

Val closed the door and leaned against, watching Max with a bemused expression on his face. "You are a piece of work, Max," he said with a chuckle.

Max grinned into the mirror he was using to check out the damage and make sure it didn't look too bad. Yep, definitely a shiner but nothing he hadn't had before. The ring cut would heal pretty quick. "May not be your speed, Everett, but you should check out how the other half lives."

"Now how am I supposed to take that, Max. Some part of my education, you think is missing?" he said, glad for the sudden and incredibly easy rapport they'd slipped into after so much exposure. But that was how it was. You could look into the pictures of your past but you had to close the album at some point, shelve it. Move on to something else for a little while. "You know what they say, turnabout is fair play," Val added wickedly, casting a flirtatious glance down Max's body just to see if the man would blush.

He did and Val burst out laughing, as much because it was funny as to reassure Max he was kidding.

"Don't say that around Yvette," Max cautioned him, still shaking his head. "She'll take you literally and try to set you up with one of her friends." He rolled his eyes. He liked Yvette - liked her a lot, he admitted to himself - but the girl was sometimes just too...for words.

Val retrieved his jacket, shrugging into it and checking his jeans again a little more carefully, seeing just the blue gray line of scar that remained. Would not do to walk into the Bayou with a bloodless flap of skin showing. Not everybody wanted to know there were vampires among them. The joint was still slipping but not bad -- he could almost walk normally.

Max opened the door. "Come on. Mike's gonna' be wondering what the hell happened to me." He showed Val down the short hall and the vampire could hear the crowd louder and sharper as they approached the bar floor; the bass was starting to vibrate through his feet. "How do you stand this?" He had to nearly yell to make himself heard.

Max hadn't even thought about it. "Just used to it." They came through the curtain and he signaled Mike that he was back. Val watched as the two conferred, then let his eyes sweep over the crowd. There was so much obvious lust in the air that it was nearly palpable. Eyes glittered nearly as much as the skimpy costume the girl on stage was wearing as she spun around a pole on high heels that probably added a good five inches to her height. Looking back, he could see Max scanning the crowd, his eyes lighting on possible trouble spots and mentally filing them away to keep an eye on or discarding them as potential problems.

Catching Val's eye, he jerked his head in a 'follow me' motion and pointed to the door.

They had not gotten a dozen steps when Val stopped as if someone had just turned a switch off. His eyes looked straight ahead and Max tried to follow his gaze, looking through the crowd then back at his friend. If Val couldn't have gotten any paler he would have and after all he'd heard…all Val had said, the look of outright bottomless despair on his face would have assured Max Val had a soul if he hadn't already known it. No one without one could look to be in that much pain and fear.

"Fuck me raw," Val whispered and then he was backing away. "Oh God…" he slipped away, turned and ran, punching through the door they'd just come out of almost as if it didn't exist. Max tried to catch him, to ask him, but his body wasn't very cooperative with quick moves and he was going to end up on his ass if he wasn't careful. Besides, Val was fast…too fast for Max to catch him even on his best day – which this wasn't.

Cursing he turned back, trying to see what had spooked the vampire so…what would that take? To scare a vampire?

**Author's Note:**

> We might have called this When Worlds Collide, because it is a collision of sorts. Take a World of Darkness Role-Playing Game, a healthy dose of the original universe set out in _**Lattice**_ (by Snowden and Watts) and toss in two young men trying to make sense of the world around them, the balances between Chaos and Order, and the need to hold onto their own souls and you have Twin Sons and Different Brothers. Max and Val met by accident -- not unlike their creators...Lori and I have managed to form a friendship apart from this collaboration and we must thank our boys for that. This is a work in process, like most of our lives. We warn you now that the language is frequently harsh, the situations harsher...and the resolution unknown. (Rated NC17 for violence, language and sexual situations.) The NPC Characters of Tevis, Madeleine, Crispin and assorted other vampires and inhabitants of New Orleans, belong to World of Darkness RPG Game Mistress and Goddess Meg Wittenmyer (I think we have her permission.)
> 
> This is an independent work based on the concept of the Kindred from the White Wolf World of Darkness Role-Playing Game and Novels. The concept of Immortality and the Game as presented here are the property of Gregory Widen and Panzer/Davis Productions, as are the characters of Duncan MacLeod and Methos (among others.) The Lattice characters and concepts appear here by permission of V. Watts and M. Snowden. All other characters and concepts are the property and creation of Lori Goldman and V. Watts.
> 
> Warning: The following story may be rated G, PG, R, NC17 or even X. It may contain graphic depictions of sex between men or between men and women. I can pretty much guarantee there won't be any sex between people and animals...but nothing is ever 100%. Vampires, Immortals, Jedi and other anomolies are fair game though. There may be violence, graphic violence, nudity, bad language or adult themes. There may be non-consensual sex, rape, partner rape, hurt/comfort, and mental anguish. There may be torture, sadism, masochism, bondage, or bad verb conjugations. There may be death, there may be a major character death. The ending may be happy or it may be really depressing. There may be much affection, cuddling and kissing. There may be an uneasy resolution. Over-the-topness is not guaranteed but is highly probable. There may even be a plot. Or, there may be none of those things. You have been warned.This material may not be copied or distributed without permission--we intend no copyright infringement, make no profit and promise to share. Welcome to the darkside of the soap opera. Comments may be be sent to thewildmole@gmail.com &amp; maygra@bellsouth.net


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